


Puppets

by HostisHumaniGeneris



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: AU-Bad End, Anal Sex, Breeding, F/M, Infected Characters, M/M, Mad Science, Mind Control, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-06-06 02:27:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15184736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HostisHumaniGeneris/pseuds/HostisHumaniGeneris
Summary: With Jill Valentine under his control and Chris Redfield captured, Wesker puts his plans for a new world on hold until he had gotten everything he wants out of his former subordinates.





	Puppets

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Silex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silex/gifts).



“Strip.”

He ordered.

She obeyed.

She willed herself to stop, to not do it.  She had about as much success as she had the countless times before this when he gave her that order.  Or told her to kill someone, to help in his insane experiments.  She never managed more than a few brief seconds, fleeting moments where the P30 wasn’t in control but she could do little more than scream in pain as she fought for and lost control of her body again.

She unzipped the suit and peeled it off of her shoulders, unbalanced slightly as she stepped out of the tight material.  Wesker circled her, looking her up and down appraisingly, like he already hadn’t done this a thousand times before.  She stayed still, eyes forward, as he stepped in front of her.  His gloved hand drifted between her legs.    

Her skin was crawling as she felt him push his middle and ring fingers in.  She wanted to shove his arm away, wanted to back away, wanted to kill him slowly and painfully.  Instead she stayed still, looking passively into his burning red eyes.  He pulled his hand free, and held his hand, slick fingers extended, right under her nose.

“Lick.”

She did.

“You seem to be rather… distracted tonight, my dear.” He said, mockingly.  “Is it because I said you’d be seeing Chris tonight?”

“Yes.”

He held her tight, groping her.  Given the hardness pressing against her, she wasn’t the only one who was excited.  She never managed to understand Wesker’s obsession with Chris.  She had become very used to it during her captivity, but she’d first noticed something _off_ about Wesker’s opinion of Chris back in S.T.A.R.S.  Before the mansion, she just assumed it was because Chris was the best of his subordinates.

Now, she couldn’t fathom what it was about.  Maybe it had to do with Chris being the one to kill the original Tyrant, leaving Wesker without a prize to sell from the Mansion.  Maybe it was just lust.  When Wesker fucked her it was always because she was Chris’s woman.  She never got it.

A part of her that she was deeply ashamed of was grateful that Chris was captured.  Because Wesker came to her less often.

“Follow me.” He’d done this a lot.  Have her strip in an exam room, and then parade her around the facility.  Bragging about the impressive qualities of P30, and of his ‘guest’.  Her blood was perfect for the Uroboros plan, and that was just the most impressive of her features.  He loved to show off his possession to his subordinates, make them jealous.  Make them wonder if they worked hard enough, they’d get a taste.

Now, all the researchers were dead.  A few Majini, even more dully staring and slavish than she was patrolled the base.  There was no one to care as she trailed, naked behind him, following him to his bedroom.

On the bed was a pair of lacy black panties, matching elbow-length gloves, and a slinky, strapless navy dress.  Wesker grinned.  “I sourced this outfit from the same sorts of places Excella bought hers.  Put it on.”

She did. 

He circled her twice, a grin forming on his face.  He commented on how one of the late Miss Gionne’s virtues was her sense of taste.  Wesker had put his plans for Uroboros on hold when Chris was captured.  He had a lot of things he wanted to do.  And Excella had become a liability.  Wesker let Jill know that with her and Chris, he had everything he needed.

“Blue does suit you.” Wesker said.   “I do think I would love to see you dance in it.”

Was that an order?  When she stood still and he didn’t clarify, she stayed still.

One of the first things he did when he started drugging her with P30 was make her tell him all about their relationship, in graphic detail.  Then he had her reenact some of her stories with him.  Badly; he was selfish in ways that Chris wasn’t.  The only times she came were when he decided holding that over her head would be amusing; otherwise he’d skip foreplay, fuck her with very little interest in her pleasure, and make her tell him how great he was. 

So, he knew about her dancing for Chris.  It was just a silly thing she did one time while they were both half-drunk that they both dug and she made a habit of.  Wesker never had the patience to watch one of her routines; he’d always interrupt before she could get partway through and demand she get on her knees or up against the wall.  And he wasn’t ordering her to dance _now_.

Which meant tonight she was going to dance _later_.  For Chris.

Something twisted in her guts.

When they had captured him and Agent Alomar… when Jill’s  body and Wesker’s will capitalized on Chris’s hesitation to blindside him and beat him and bloody him, Wesker had her perform for him.  On Alomar once, the woman was still languishing in one of the cells, waiting to be dealt with.  She’d fucked Chris multiple times, depending on what struck Wesker’s fancy. Chris tried to reason with her, get her to resist, he knew she was stronger than the chemicals coursing through her veins.

But she wasn't.

The fact that she was on P30 and Chris wasn't limited Wesker's choices in entertaining himself, she had to be on top. But he never got bored of it. Never got bored of pointing out that Jill was his little puppet and Chris could do nothing about it. And then Chris would get mad and Wesker would grin because that was the exact situation he was hoping for. Once, Wesker made a great show of demanding she ride Chris “like they had just done”; and she did.  Still red and sore from Wesker’s roughness, she draped her leg over Chris’s body and slid all the way down him.  He tried to tell her she didn’t have to do this.

But she did.

Wesker gave her a black eye when he asked her who was better, to ‘be honest’, and she was. Chris threw out insults as Wesker was unamused that Jill preferred Chris in bed.  The next session, Wesker was suddenly interested in roughness.  On his orders she’d slapped Chris, scratched him, and escalated on command to punches and kicks.  When he was on the floor, bruised and spitting blood, she gave him a handjob.

Chris would 'misbehave', and it would fall to her to discipline him while Wesker watched. Electricity, beatings, whippings, strangulation, Wesker would force hours of entertainment out of her and Chris, asking him why he couldn't obey his superior's orders like Jill did. He loved to draw that comparison; Chris could control himself but at best accomplished nothing but pain for himself with his resistance. She was locked up in her own mind; almost never subject to Wesker's most sadistic impulses, but always tasked with carrying them out.

Chris's screams of pain blended with his groans of pleasure and pleas to snap out of it. Eventually. Sometimes she heard all three in the span of minutes.

So it went.

She was ‘shared’ between the two of them, both their cocks in her snatch at the same time; Chris was bound to his cot while Wesker was behind her.  Other times she’d sit on Chris’s face and grind while Wesker himself fucked Chris, lay on her back and hold Chris’s head between her legs while Wesker sodomized him.  He was just as selfish with Chris as he was with her.  She’d fucked Chris with a strap on while Wesker jacked off in his face—a threat to bite caused Chris's mouth to be taped shut. 

A lot of times, Wesker just had her watch.

A lot of times, Wesker just watched.

Like that time he handed her a syringe and told her that, if Chris made her cum, she was to inject him with it.  Then Wesker told her to “enjoy herself”.  She rode him slow, hands against his muscular chest, trying in vain to screw up.  Chris had begun to buck _just right_ ; he’d realized Jill enjoying herself annoyed Wesker and he took whatever victories he could get.

She wanted to scream at him to be still, to just do something that was a mood killer, like that time he tried saying something sexy in a foreign language—French maybe, and ended up asking her where the Library was.  With terrible grammar.  Something that’d make her laugh or would dry her out or piss her off.

She just silently rode him until she came.

When Chris saw her remove the cap to the syringe, he thrashed, tried all the same arguments that never worked.  She screamed at herself, used every ounce of willpower to resist the chemicals running her body for her.  She paused, then Chris stopped thrashing.  She broke the control long enough to say “I’m sorry”.

Then she plunged the needle into his neck.

Wesker hadn’t allowed her to see him after that.

Until now.

He hadn’t even gloated to her about what she’d injected him with, what he was becoming.  In the rare instances he conversed with her rather than ordered her, he never answered her if she tried to steer the conversation to Chris.  One night, after shoving her across a table and sodomizing her, he let her know he wanted it to be a surprise.  She had done good work.

She assumed he wasn’t fucking Chris anymore, given how he was back to regularly having her get on his knees or spread her legs for him. For whatever reason, he was only interested in fucking her up the ass now.

Her heels click-clacked on the floor as she followed Wesker.

They weren’t headed for the cells.  At least, not the cells meant for people.  He led her to an elevator, swiped his keycard and punched a few buttons, and down they went.  In the reflection of them in the polished metal of the elevator, she stared flatly, face neutral as she kicked and screamed inside her head.  Wesker had a smile on his face.  Not his usual smug, punchable grin, but an outright smile.

This was going to be bad.

They ended up in a sub-basement that used to be full of gurgling and wet, slapping noises.  She had no occasion to be down here in quite some time, since the last batch of test subjects were incinerated.  Wesker walked forward, heading for a cell near the end of the hall.  Swiped his card and the heavy, sliding door began to open.

She gazed into the darkness, seeing a pale shape on an examination table that was too small for it.  A line of cables ran off of it, and thick, heavy chains secured it to the floor.  She tried to take a step forward, but Wesker held out his hand to stop her.

The lights came on.  What lay on the table was gigantic, probably eight foot tall if it stood up straight, although she got the impression it wasn’t meant to.  The arms were long and ended in wicked claws, and were stretched far from the body and shacked to the far wall.  The legs were thick and muscular and also ended in claws.  Gray skin was arranged in plates across it’s body.  What she took to be cables writhed a little; they were tentacles that had been bound together then bolted to the floor to prevent them from being used.

“Chris?”

The thing on the table growled.  It’s broad, short snout was muzzled, and it thrashed against its restraints.  Chains rattled and it growled as loud as its could with its mouth bound.  Wesker walked past Jill, coming very close to the monster, then passing by.  On a small, wheeled tray he retrieved a file folder.  As he headed bac to Jill, he ran his free hand along the monster’s side.

“Look through these.” Wesker said, handing Jill the folder.

There were reports which her eyes glazed over as she leafed through the papers.  She got the story just by examining the glossy, eight-by-eleven pictures in the folder.  The first was Chris, bound, with a large red mark on the side of his neck.  Right where she injected him.

The red spread unevenly in subsequent pictures.  There was one of him scratching, and another of something that looked like tissue paper soaked in red wine covering the floor.  Then one of Chris again, discolored, gray, scaly.  And so it continued until she saw the thing on the table in front of her.

She finished rifling through the folder and looked at Wesker, using every iota of willpower to fail at doing anything that wouldn’t have had a chance of working against him anyway.  He leaned in close and kissed her.  “You did wonderful work, Jill.”

She wanted to scream.  She didn’t do anything  She couldn’t do anything.  Except she didn’t.  She couldn’t do anything except what Wesker wanted her to, and on that note, she did _this_ to Chris.  He was a monster, he looked insensible, wild.  He was nothing more than a beast.  It would’ve been better if Wesker had her kill him.

“Now, then, dance.” Wesker ordered.  “Make it good.”

She did.

She gyrated for the two of them, biting the fingertip of one of her gloves and pulling it off, then doing it again for the other.  Undid her ponytail and shook her head… whipping the hair loose.  The dress hit the ground, and she ran a hand up her belly and over her chest.  She willed herself to grab the P30 pump and tear it off, beat Wesker’s stupid smug face in with it.

She didn’t.

Both of them were watching her as she spun.  Wesker was smiling, and while Chris had begun letting out a low, rumbling growl.  She kicked her shoes off, then hooked a thumb in the waistband of her underwear.  Her eyes locked on the monster on the table.  The room grew very silent as she slowly pulled them down.

There was a pause as she stood there, naked for the two monsters. 

She’d been put on display before.  But she’d never felt more exposed than right now.  Wesker took a few steps forward, slowly clapping.  When he reached he held her, kissing her neck while his fingers drifted down.  She let out a small moan that was answered by a short, muffled growl by the monster. 

“It seems I wasn’t the only one to enjoy the show.” Wesker mumbled in her ear.

She had the monster’s attention.

A big, red, wet organ that she hadn’t seen when the lights first came on stood out, contrasting against the slate gray of the thing’s skin.  It throbbed obscenely and something thick and transluscent was dripping from the tip.  Wesker grabbed her by the back of the neck and led her forward, closer to the organ.  The creature let out a warning growl.

Her nose was nearly touching the thing’s cock when Wesker stopped pushing her towards it, the overpowering musky smell filling her nose.  She looked it over; the cock was protruding from a slit in between he thing’s legs, must’ve come unsheathed during her routine.  She didn’t want to think about why a monster, a creature so irrational and dangerous they chained it up and muzzled it, would’ve gotten hard watching her.

“Suck.”

She did, stretching so she was over the thing and wrapping her mouth around the meat.  The taste made her shudder, even with the P30.  She moved her head up and down while the monster growled under its muzzle.  Up and down.  Her jaw ached as Wesker put a hand on her head and forced her deeper, the thing’s cock getting wider as she went down.

It lasted for seconds, minutes, forever, until Wesker told her to stop and get on top of Chris.

Wesker helped her line herself up as she knelt on top of the creature.  After he repeated her command, she dropped down.  The thing was too long, it shouldn’t have fit.  But she could feel it _curve_ back on itself inside of her; flexible parts moving while rigid ones didn’t. 

It coiled and uncoiled as she bounced up and down.  It was huge, stretching her to the limit.  Maybe even a little painful. 

But it felt good.

She laughed silently inside her head.  She must’ve lost it, because it was so goddamn amusing.  Even like this, a big insane monster, Chris was still better than Wesker.  This thing she’d raped and then infected, turned into a thing rather than a person.  All the while, Chris kept making a low growl, like an annoyed animal trying to get something pissing it off to back away.  She could feel the rumbling when she planted her hands on his chest.

Things could always get worse.

“You know Jill… I’ve been thinking.” Wesker said, leaning in close.  “About something you told me about a long time ago.”

She groaned as she rode, and the thing under her bucked. 

“About children.”

If she could’ve frozen in panic, that would’ve been a moment.  It had been a random night, long before they’d captured Chris.  Wesker had been asking her about her ‘maudlin’ plans for a life with Chris.  If she ever wanted kids, he Chris ever wanted kids.  Her answer was that, as long as they were in the B.S.A.A., they couldn’t do that, it was a very dangerous job they were in and neither wanted to have that hanging over a potential son or daughter’s life.  Afterwards?  They’d answer that question later.

If she had the opportunity to do it all over again, she would’ve resigned the second after Il Veltro, convinced Chris to do the same, and then they could answer the question immediately.  She still wasn’t sure if she’d want kids then.

She wanted to stop.  But she had her orders and she continued to bounce up and down, feeling full but not uncomfortable. 

“It is later.” Wesker growled in her ear.  “And neither of you works for the B.S.A.A. anymore.”

What the fuck was he planning?

“I am curious… Chris isn’t quite human anymore, although at this point neither are you.” They were both Wesker’s little science experiments, lab rats. 

Was he out of his fucking mind?

Of course he was.

“A hybrid between you would be theoretically possible.”

The monster that had been Chris growled as a punctuation.  Part of her thought him very lucky, because he was gone now.  Chris Redfield, B.S.A.A. agent was well and truly gone, with the monster he was now not being “Chris”.  Had to be.  He had escaped in the worst way possible, but he had escaped.

Her body gasped and moaned while her mind was screaming. 

“I dunno if you’ve felt any differently over the past few days…” Wesker said, tapping the P30 pump on her chest.  “We had been including some chemicals with a contraceptive effect along with P30.  We took you off them a short while ago. Since the changes started with Chris.”

She would have scrambled off the monster, tore at Wesker, screamed that she wasn’t going to be used as breeding stock for a bunch of experiments for him.    But she couldn’t.  At best, she managed to slow her pace down a bit.  Although her body itself was getting tired, might’ve been that.  Wesker had always kept her up at odd hours, the P30 often keeping her from falling asleep.  But sooner or later she would crash, she was getting close to that.

Her body was also getting close to something else.

She kept riding the monster while it looked at her, through beady eyes that weren’t Chris’s.  Weren’t human.  Were the eyes of a dumb monster that didn’t know what was going on.  Had to be.  Wesker hadn’t been whispering.  The monster had heard what the plan was, but didn’t understand it.

That was good.

When she came, she almost slid off the monster.  Except Wesker was there to steady her.  He tutted with his tongue, said something she wasn’t hearing, then lifted her.  Not enough to get the monster’s cock out of her, but enough to give him room to wrap his hand around it near the base and start stroking.

It could've been a few seconds or a few hours, she wasn't sure. It let out a growl, that abruptly shifted in pitch and volume.

And something burning filled her.

Wesker stopped supporting her then, letting her fall forward, sprawling against the scaly chest of the monster.  She laid there panting while the monster growled in rage and hate.  Like a beast. 

Wesker leaned over to say something, then paused as the thing kept interrupting.  The cacophony lasted forever before Wesker was able to lean in very close. He stroked her back, from her neck to the base of her spine, and said. "A wonderful performance, indeed. We most certainly are going to have to repeat this until we see results, though."

Jill just stared at the tiles of the floor, dingy and stained rust-brown from something. as he heard him walk away. She drew in a breath and held it until, at the door to the cell, he heard him add. "Do not remove the bindings from his limbs or the tendrils, and do not leave this room.  But otherwise, do what you want.”

She laid in a heap on the monster for too long, because that was what she wanted.

She would’ve assumed things had hit rock bottom, except that was a sucker’s bet.  Under Wesker, they could _always_ get worse. 

Always.

She turned it over in her head.  Wesker had told her to keep its arms and legs bound.  Said nothing about it’s muzzle.  She planted her hands on his shoulders and dragged herself forward. Dragged herself closer to the thing's head. It was quiet now.  She was sore and the room was spinning she was so tired, but she managed to drag herself over to the the beast’s head.

Might bite as soon as she took the muzzle off. 

She could hope.

Wesker had chosen his words carefully for a reason.  He had given her the opportunity to remove the muzzle by being so specific; he could’ve told her to not touch the restraints at all and gotten the same thing accomplished.

So she had no idea when those conical, razor sharp teeth parted and a garbled sound escaped the thing’s mouth that she was surprised.  She just stared into those beady, human eyes that were staring at her and managed to throw out the apology she’d wanted to do for so goddamn long.  She had expected manic growling, and what she heard was a punch to the gut.

Because things could always get worse. 

Because the monster on the table looked at her and said something that was unmistakeable despite the difficulty forcing the sounds through a lipless mouth of razor teeth.

“Jill.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hm... this was a tough one to do, there were a lot of avenues to try and none of them were wholly satisfactory. Including this one. I'm not terribly confident in it, but Wesker doing fucked up mad science with the two of them makes sense.


End file.
